


It's not the magic

by wisia



Series: Wisia's Stony Bingo [1]
Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae Magic, M/M, Tony Stark Hates Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony didn't like magic, ironic given the fairy blood running in his veins. Then, Steve had to step in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's not the magic

**Author's Note:**

> For the Stony Bingo Square: I Hate Magic
> 
> Russian Translation by answeraquestion: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5532677

Tony Stark didn’t like magic. It was a given fact. He preferred the cool logic of science, of the ability to parse out equations, and breaking machines to their smaller components and rebuilding them. Anyone with half a brain could see that technology was the future, and the key to the world around them. Magic hardly did any good, and it was ironic given that Tony had fairy blood running in his veins.

He hated magic, but it was in the very core of him. Wasn’t that just another disappointment to Howard? Oh, he didn’t have enough of it to actually do magic contrary to belief. It wasn’t that much blood, probably watered down to a fifth or an eighth or some tiny fraction. Enough that Tony could almost pass for entirely human. Anyway, the most Tony could manage was party tricks. It certainly was useful for deals and investment. Tony was charming with that extra edge riding into his every word and gesture. After all, fairies were known for their beguiling smiles.

Still, even with the little blood he had and the heritage and wonder of the fae, Tony couldn’t get over his aversion to magic—big magic, ostentatious and bright. The way the magic folk showed off as if it was the answer and solution. To be fair, the older folk knew the real story. Hell, they have been in the stories—the stories past down among the humans, a warning about the uses of magic. Magic wasn’t a solve all, and Tony thought he could do it with tech. Beautiful tech. Could any necromancer or wizard dream of creating something like J.A.R.V.I.S.? Could a sea witch conjure up something like Iron Man?

Magic was a giant pain in the ass, and not for the first time Tony cursed it out. Especially right now. He may not had a lot of fairy blood, but when the full moon was out and high, when the waters rise in the sea, Tony was prisoner to it. The magic sung within his veins, drumming out a tune, and it made him desperate for touch. Needs were amplified during this time, and Tony usually took it to an inventing binge. Not this night.

He needed something more carnal, more than what he could actually get.

“Steve,” Tony heard himself said. “What are you doing—didn’t I tell JARVIS to lock down the shop?”

“Override,” Steve answered. He held up a tray because Tony hadn’t surfaced in thirty something hours from the bowels of his work.

“Blatant abuse of power.” Tony took the tray out of his hands. The plate of cheesy pasta looked good, but it didn’t make his stomach growl. The magic sang in his blood, heart pounding a warning. Tony didn’t dare ask for the time. He could feel it growing in the bottom of his stomach. He shouldn’t have enough fairy blood for this, but goddamn. Magic was potent and sinister with a drop of blood regardless of its origins.

“What?” Tony asked defensively. He noticed that Steve stared at him for too long, and he quickly shoved a mouthful of the pasta into his mouth.

“Nothing…it’s just.” And Steve’s eyes were on him, heavy and hot. The blue in them searching, assessing, as if he could tell what Tony was feeling.

“Right,” Tony said loudly. “Thanks for the food.”

He skirted past Steve to the opposite side of the workshop, willing the man to leave. If only it was an inventing binge, but Tony knew from past experience it couldn’t be distracted. The one forkful of pasta in his stomach didn’t even sate the appetite rising. The want in his blood and his bones, how he could feel it in his loins.

“You don’t look well,” Steve observed, unmoved by Tony’s obvious dismissal. Tony put the tray down.

“You don’t look so hot yourself,” Tony shot back. “Came from the gym, did you?”

He gulped down the orange juice that came with tray, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t thirsty, and Tony couldn’t run his mouth off fast enough to get Steve out of his space.

“You should take a shower. You’re stinking up my work.”

Steve really wasn’t. In fact, Tony’s nose was sharp now. Enough that he could scent just how good Steve smelled.

“Oh, really. Like you don’t do that well enough yourself?” Steve replied. There was a smile on his lips, obviously amused.

“It’s my shop.”

And Tony froze when Steve stepped closer, leaned over the counter space that separated them.

“Your shop?”

“My shop,” Tony confirmed and found himself leaning in. Steve’s eyes were blue, bluer than he could have ever imagined. Then, Steve’s lips were on his and Tony never though a mouth could taste so good. He put a hand in the collar of Steve’s shirt, hauled him in for a closer taste, and the magic thrummed in his blood.

“Shit,” Tony said, panting against Steve’s mouth. He couldn’t make his hand let go. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What if I want to be here?”

“You. Are. Not in your right mind. You’re really not.” It hurt to drag those words out of his teeth, but Tony had to do it. Steve gripped his shoulder, and Tony blessed whatever was in that serum. Steve slipped his hands down to Tony’s waist, pulled him across the counter with ease.

“Steve—hmpfh!”

Steve kissed him as if he couldn’t get enough, as if it would pain him to let Tony move even one inch from him. The hot press of his body against Tony was magnificent, and if Tony could curl up in that heat he would and never leave. He could hardly think as it was with the way Steve kissed him boneless, tongue nice and the neat in exploration of Tony’s mouth.

“Steve.” Tony was barely aware of how he sounded, voice breathless and high pitched. “I’ve got—it’s magic.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said, not pausing one bit in stripping Tony out of his shirt.

“You’re going to regret this.” Tony groaned. The feel of Steve cupping him was too much and too soon. “I’m not entirely human, you—you know.”

“I know. It was in your file.” Steve nipped a path down his collarbone.

“So, you know you’re not—“

Steve stopped then, and that was frustrating. It really wasn’t fair to leave Tony aching and so hard that he could cry. Steve looked at Tony, entirely serious. “I promise it’s not the magic.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll prove it in the morning,” and what a wicked grin that was, especially as Steve stroked him firmly, the pressure so good that it racketed up the need into a greater height.

“You better,” Tony said, dizzy as Steve stroked him again. “I hate magic.”


End file.
